


Take My Breath Away

by RushingHeadlong



Series: Queen in Corsets [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Breathplay, Corsetry, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Reader's gender is not specified, Sub Brian May, corset kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong
Summary: Brian has athingfor drawing sex out for as long as possible, but it’s harder to do that when breathplay is involved… at least until you come up with a bit of an unorthodox solution: corsets.
Relationships: Brian May/You
Series: Queen in Corsets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990705
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr at @rushingheadlong.
> 
> Original A/N: I set out intending to write a short 5k companion piece to [my earlier corset fic](https://rushingheadlong.tumblr.com/post/188470898657/heres-a-prompt-for-you-you-dont-have-to-use-it)… and then everything spiraled out of control and this happened. A huge thank you to @tenderbri and @jackolynsparrow for being my cheerleaders, letting me bounce ideas off them, and helping me edit this monstrosity. I hope you all enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

It begins almost on accident. 

You’re half-watching a movie with Brian. He’s pretending to read and you’re pressing kisses along his neck, trying to entice him to pay attention to you instead of his book. The TV isn’t turned down low but it’s still easy enough to ignore, at least until there’s a flurry of shouts and action and you glance back to see that the tight-laced heroine has fainted in her corset. 

You almost laugh at the cliché of it all, but then you hear Brian’s breath hitch at the scene on the TV and you turn to him with a knowing smirk. “See something you like, Brian?” you tease, trailing one hand up his chest and settling it lightly over his throat. 

“You know I do,” he answers, arching up into your touch. 

“Maybe I like hearing you say it.” Your hand slots into position under his jaw, thumb and forefinger pressing up underneath his tongue to restrict his breathing. It’s safer than pressing down on his arteries and making him pass out, though you know how to do that too if that’s what he wants. “Use your words, babe. Tell me what you want.”

“This,” Brian says, voice strained from the way you’re practically forcing his jaw shut. “Just this, don’t wanna pass out, just- Y/N, _please_ -”

You lean down and kiss him, and neither of you last long after that- mostly because you _can’t_ make this last long, not when Brian’s neck is literally on the line. You jerk him off quickly, your other hand pressing hard against his throat, and Brian's hands fumble against you as he struggles to keep breathing but that’s alright, because the sight of him coming undone and his first gasp when you remove your hand are enough to tip you over the edge anyway. 

The routine after that is familiar: check for bruises and damage, even if you’re confident there aren’t any, because you can never be too safe; clean off yourself and Brian while he’s still catching his breath; grab a glass of orange juice and wrap your arms around him to stave off the subdrop that he falls into as easy as… well, as easy as breathing. 

You like the routine. It’s comforting and grounding, and lets you check over Brian without worrying that you’re missing some important step. But lately the sex itself has felt like part of the routine as well, or at least the breathplay part of it has. Funny how one of your more dangerous kinks has become so methodical that you’re almost bored by it. 

And Brian feels the same way. You've seen his small moments of displeasure in the past, but this time when he curls up around you after you’ve checked up on him he sighs and mumbles, “Always wish we could make that last longer.”

You bite back a sigh of your own, and instead press a kiss to the top of his unruly curls. “I know.”

Because you _do_ know. Brian’s always had a thing for drawing scenes out for as long as possible. When you tie him up he’ll gladly stay in bondage for hours, and when he feels like being in charge he enjoys teasing you until you’re nearly incoherent with want. It’s harder to do that with the breathplay when you need to be careful about not leaving marks around his neck, and when keeping one hand in the correct position on his throat inherently limits your options for different positions. 

If Brian had his way he’d spend half a day struggling to breathe, each inhale careful and deliberate and _shallow_ , and you’d love to see him in that position… but if there’s a way to make it work, without leaving behind damning evidence, you have yet to figure it out.

“We could try the mask again…” Brian tries to suggest.

“No, Bri,” you tell him, as gently as you can. “The last time we tried a mask you _panicked_. Same with the gag.”

“But if we tried a different style-”

“Brian.” You gently grab his chin and move his face so he has no choice but to look at you. “You know that I am willing to try almost anything to make this work. But you hate having your face covered, and so the masks and gags _don’t work_ for us. I’m sorry, but they just don’t.”

Brian whines and when you let go of his face he burrows it into the crook of your neck, hiding there as he admits, “I know, but I still want…”

“I know,” you say again, as you wrap your arms around him and hold him close, only this time you add, “We’ll think of something eventually, I promise.” Because right now, while he’s still coming down from this particular high, he needs that promise even if you both know that you may not be able to keep it. 

And because you want to keep the mood light, you joke, “Maybe we should just get you a corset like that woman in the movie.”

Brian snorts, and you can feel his smile where he has his face hidden against your neck. “Right. I don’t think putting me in lingerie will solve the problem.”

“Hey, you never know!” you say with a laugh… and now that you’ve gone and said it, you find that you can’t get the thought of your mind. 

Something about it sticks with you, for the rest of the night and the next day while Brian is at the studio. Why shouldn’t it work, after all? Corsets are designed to bind, to _constrict_. Even if the fainting is exaggerated for Hollywood, there’s still a kernel of truth to it. Better yet, with nothing touching Brian’s neck or face, the danger would be more limited, the chance of outright panic lessened, the marks- if there even would be any- more easily hidden…

“Everything alright, Y/N?” Brian asks, later that evening after dinner. You’re both sitting on the couch, almost in the same positions as you were the previous night, before the idea of corsetry had ever crossed your mind. “You seem… well, a bit distracted.”

“I’ve been thinking about our little problem from last night,” you say, because there’s no point in lying to Brian about something that directly concerns him. 

Brian gives you a curious look. “The breathing problem?”

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose,” you say with a laugh. “But yes, I’ve been thinking about that.”

“Y/N…” Brian reaches out for your hand, and you lace your fingers with his. “Look, you know what I want, but if there isn’t a way to do that then there’s nothing we can do. Worrying yourself about this isn’t going to change that.”

You take a deep breath, and turn so you’re facing him properly for this conversation. “That’s the thing, though. I might have a solution.”

“Really?”Brian asks. “What is it?” He looks both surprised and tentatively hopeful and you bite your lip, nervous to share your thoughts despite knowing that you have to. 

“I was joking when I mentioned it last night, but then I started actually considering it, and… Well, it’s corsets,” you tell him. 

Brian lets go of your hand, his face twisting up into an unreadable expression. “You’re not serious.”

“I actually am,” you say. “I know it’s a bit out there, even for us-”

“It’s _lingerie_ ,” Brian says, an echo of what he had said the night before.

“And you wear women’s clothing on stage, and a collar at home when the mood strikes you,” you point out, and Brian predictably doesn’t have a response for that. You sigh, and ask, “Will you at least listen to my thoughts about this, before you completely write it off?”

“Alright,” Brian says, after a moment of consideration. “I’ll listen.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, and you do mean it. “So. Let’s assume that we do this properly.” Because if you were to try this, there’s no question that you _would_ handle everything properly. “We’d get a corset that fits correctly and that was designed to be laced that tight, so I think it would be safe to assume that this would work, at least to some extent. Agreed?”

Brian nods.

“So, let’s pro/con this,” you continue. “Pros: It wouldn’t cover your face, so you’re less likely to panic like you did with the mask and gag. It doesn’t touch your neck, so it’s probably safer-”

“I think that’s a stretch,” Brian interrupts. 

You roll your eyes. “Fine, we can debate how safe it is, but at least it wouldn’t leave marks on your neck like a belt or noose would. And any marks it left on your torso can be hidden by your shirt- I mean, assuming you can bring yourself to do up an extra button if you need to.”

“Oh, you ass,” Brian says, but he’s laughing as he says it. 

You grin and ask, “Can I continue, or do you want to keep insulting me?”

“No, no, by all means, keep going,” Brian says. He’s starting to relax a little now, and you’re glad to see it. You really do think that this could be the answer to all of your problems, and you would have been irritated beyond words if Brian had stubbornly dismissed it out of hand. 

“Well, there’s also the fact that we already know you like tight bondage, and you particularly like it when I tie you in a harness,” you point out. Brian had told you once that he liked the feeling of being “held” by the rope, and you imagine that a corset would provide a similar sensation. “And corsets are designed to be worn all day, so surely it could handle a few hours of being laced maybe a little tighter than usual.”

Brian shifts at that idea, his face starting to flush with desire at the very suggestion of being in any sort of scene for several hours, and you know that he’s starting to come around to the idea. “And the potential cons?” he asks, his voice dropping a note lower than it had been before.

“The expense, for one. I can’t imagine buying a proper corset will be cheap,” you admit. “Not to mention actually getting the corset so it’s sized correctly for you, and making sure we know what to do with it once we have it. I still say that cutting you out of a corset will be safer than trying to pry a mask off your face if something goes wrong, but I’d obviously rather not get to that point at all.”

You shrug, just a little, and add, “That’s all I have, really. What are your thoughts?”

Brian is quiet for a moment, and it makes you a little nervous. He’s always been thoughtful, prefering to mull over his options before making any decisions, but given how eager he’s been recently to find a way to make this kink work you were expecting a bit more of a reaction than _this_. 

And then Brian lets out a small huff of laughter and shakes his head and says, “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting this, and it’s- Well, it’s a lot.”

You reach for Brian’s hand again, and you’re glad that at least he doesn’t pull away from you now. “A lot in a good way, or in a bad way?” you ask. 

“Good, I think… but it _is_ quite a bit to consider and I’m having a hard time getting past it being a _corset_ ,” Brian admits. “I know that at the end of the day it’s just another piece of gear, but even so it still feels different than anything else we’ve bought or tried before. Not to mention that just getting the damn thing seems like it’ll be an ordeal, and-” 

He sighs and you squeeze his hand gently, giving him the space to gather his thoughts rather than pushing him to speak before he’s ready. 

“I want to find a way to make the breathplay last longer, you know I do, but you weren’t wrong when you said that the masks and accessories don’t work for us,” Brian says at last. “I’m worried that this will just be another disappointment, only this time we’ll be out a lot more time and money and stuck with something specially made for only me that I am _not_ wearing outside of this context.”

“But it could also work,” you point out gently. “Doesn’t that make the risk worth it?”

Brian smiles, a little crookedly, and jokes, “Well, it wouldn’t be breathplay without a little risk…” You roll your eyes and knock your knee against his, but Brian just laughs and moves his leg so it’s pressing fully against yours. “Do you really think this will work?”

There’s a hopeful sort of note to Brian’s voice, even though he’s still holding himself back. The disappointment of the last few failed attempts had hit him hard, and you aren’t surprised that now that he’s not coming down off a scene that he’s a little more wary about trying something new. 

You want to reassure him that this is the perfect solution to your problem, nothing to worry about, everything will finally work out for the two of you this time… but Brian would see through the lie in a heartbeat, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned from exploring these sorts of kinks with him it’s that they only work if you’re both open and honest every step of the way. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him, because that’s the only answer that you can really give him. “I think it’s the best option that we’ve come across in a long time, and I’m more hopeful about this than I was with the gag… but I just don’t know. You might panic once it’s put on or not be able to tolerate wearing it long-term. Or maybe a properly-designed corset won’t restrict your breathing like that at all, I have no idea.”

You take a deep breath and smile at Brian, and that alone is enough to get some of the concern to fade from his eyes. “But I _do_ know how much you enjoy breathplay and how much you want to find something that will work for longer than a few minutes at a time,” you tell him. “So if this has even the slightest chance of giving you that… Why shouldn’t we at least make the attempt?”

Brian smiles back at you, bright enough to dispel your lingering fear that you’d gone too far with this suggestion. “You’re right. After everything else we’ve already tried, I suppose this is worth a shot as well.” He laughs, sounding almost disbelieving of his own words, and adds, “God, I can’t believe I’m going to wear a fucking _corset_.”

You laugh as well. “Well, provided we can figure out where to get one.”

You bite back the other comments you want to make, the ones about how lovely you know he’s going to look wearing it, because you can tell where Brian’s boundaries are with this and you know he won’t appreciate the compliment- at least, not right now. 

Instead you close the distance between you and Brian, small as it may be, practically climbing onto his lap and draping your arms loosely around his neck. Brian’s hands settle on your hips, his fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt to tease along your skin. 

“Well, hello there,” Brian says with a broad, easy grin. “I’m assuming you’ve finished with our little conversation, then?”

“I think we’ve made enough big decisions for one night,” you say lightly. “If you wanted to keep talking about the minutia of this I guess we can do that, or we can do something a bit more _fun_ …”

“Oh, is that so?” Brian’s hands start drifting higher, pushing your shirt up as he goes, and he leans in to press a few gentle kisses along your neck. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You gasp and arc into his touch, and breathe, “Whatever you want.”

You catch a glimpse of Brian’s brilliant smile before his lips catch yours in a fierce kiss. You’re momentarily overwhelmed with just how much you _love_ this man- and then Brian gathers you in his arms, picking you up as he stands from the couch, and you shriek in surprise and delight as he carries you towards the bedroom. 


	2. Chapter 2

You immediately dive into research about corsets, at least as much as you can with the resources available at the library, and what you find doesn’t seem promising at first. You’re head spins with endless lists of measurements and jargon you don’t understand, and you still can’t figure out if this will actually work the way Brian needs it to or if that’s all just Hollywood nonsense.

Even the few shops you manage to find that sell corsets don’t seem likely to work for your purposes. The lingerie stores seem to sell mostly fashion corsets, which probably can’t lace tight enough even if you could get them to fit on Brian’s body, and the wedding boutiques are an immediate no-go from the start.

In the end it’s Brian who comes up with a solution- or at least, that’s what you can only assume has happened when he comes home from the studio one day in a bit of a whirlwind and says, “Fred’s found a corsetmaker for us.”

You blink in bemusement, listening as he sheds coat and keys in the foyer and waiting until he pops his head into the living room before saying, “Hi, honey. Mind explaining how Freddie got involved in this little project of ours?”

Brian huffs in vague amusement, and crosses the room to give you a quick kiss in greeting. “All I did was ask him if he knew any designers who also did corset work, since we weren’t having any luck finding someone on our own,” he says, leaning over you as he talks. 

But it seems that’s the extent of his explanation, because he straightens back up and asks, “Do you want tea? I think I’m going to make myself a cuppa.”

“I would _like_ a bit more detail about Freddie and this corsetmaker,” you say. “But yes, I’ll take the tea as well.”

Brian, it seems, is in somewhat of a mood, because he continues the conversation as he walks away, calling over his shoulder, “Like I said, we weren’t getting anywhere and Freddie knows loads of designers and artists so I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask him…”

You stand up and follow him into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway and watching as Brian fills up the kettle and pulls out your mugs with a bit more verve than usual. 

“...and obviously I didn’t tell him what it was for. I might have actually implied that it was for _you_ , not that it did me any good because he came back to me today with a name of a corsetmaker who he said would treat _me_ quite well.” He huffs and braces himself against the counter, and you can see the line of tension in his back. “What is it about me that makes it so obvious that _I’m_ going to be the one wearing lingerie?”

“Why does it bother you so much?” you ask, far more quiet than Brian’s own testy ramblings. 

Brian clearly hadn’t heard you follow him, because he startles at the sound of your voice and turns to face you in surprise. “Why _wouldn’t_ it bother me?”

“Because like I pointed out before, you’ve worn women’s clothing in the past. Quite frequently, in fact,” you remind him. “Why is this different?”

Brian gnaws at his bottom lip, clearly fighting to find the right words to explain this. “Because, being told that I look like I _should_ be wearing something like this feels like people are making assumptions about me,” he finally admits. “I just wear clothes that I like, regardless of whether they’re intended for men or women. It has nothing to do with what I like in the bedroom, and I hate feeling like people are drawing those sorts of conclusions based on what I wear. They’re never completely right anyway, and it always feels demeaning and degrading.”

There’s a horrible and heartbreaking sort of logic there, especially when combined with what you know of Brian’s deep-seated self-esteem and body issues. You know that society at large doesn’t look favorably on men wearing lingerie, and certainly doesn’t consider them to be much of a _man_ at all. In that context, Brian’s initial visceral reaction against the corset makes a lot more sense.

“Have I ever made you feel that way?” You hate how small your voice sounds as you ask the question, and you hate that you have to ask it at all. 

“No,” Brian says immediately, without hesitation. “Never. It’s always just been me, getting too caught up in my own worries about things. Which is exactly what happened today with Freddie, because I know he wasn’t insinuating anything, but I still…”

The kettle goes off and Brian turns away and busies himself making the tea rather than finishing that sentence. You stay quiet, knowing he needs this moment of privacy to gather himself and his thoughts. 

It’s a testament to how worked up Brian is that he’s not quiet as he thinks over his next words. The silence in the kitchen is broken by sighs and frustrated huffs, until Brian all but slams the kettle back down and bites out, “It’s one thing, you know, when I have those knee-jerk reactions around you, because you somehow always know what to say to help me actually think things through and calm down. But now I have a phone number for a corsetmaker who I’m going to have to discuss this with and it’s- it’s a lot harder to feel good about this now that other people are involved.”

That gets you moving forward so you’re standing next to Brian, one hand coming up to gently rub his back- but then Brian turns, pulling you into a tight hug and burying his face against your shoulder, and all you can do is hold him as he shakes in your arms. 

It’s a long time before Brian pulls away, and when he does he looks exhausted and embarrassed. You kiss him softly to cut off his feeble attempt at an apology, and ask, “Do you want to go sit in the living room?”

“I _want_ tea, but I think it’s gone cold,” Brian says instead, picking up the cups he prepared before his small breakdown. They’re both lukewarm at best, and he dumps them into the sink as you quickly refill the kettle and start heating it again.

You stay pressed close to Brian’s side as you wait for the water to heat up. He doesn’t move away from you but he does say, “I’m fine, you know. I just let it get to me a little too much for a moment there.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. “Because I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“What other choice do I have?”

You can’t hold back a small, frustrated noise at Brian’s question. “Any other choice in the world, Brian! We can take this entire _stupid_ idea and shove it for all I care, because your comfort is more important than some damn kink!”

“But I _do_ want to give this a try.” 

It’s said quietly, evenly, no heat or urgency in Brian’s voice, just a statement of fact- and for a moment, you almost hate him for that. You want Brian to be angry so that _you_ can be angry, so you can push and needle at him until all of his insecurities are laid bare for you to systematically refute until there’s no part of Brian that still feels like his self-worth can be determined by his kinks or his clothes. 

But you know that’s not the best approach to take in this situation, so instead you take a slow breath to ground yourself and ask, “Then what can we do to make this as stress-free as possible for you?”

You half-expect Brian to respond with “Nothing”, and are bracing yourself for the frustrating conversation that is sure to follow. But instead Brian actually considers the question, humming thoughtfully as the kettle whistles and he remakes the tea for both of you. 

“Can you call the corset shop?” he asks after a moment. “If they’re going to have a problem fitting a corset on a man…”

Brian’s voice trails off again and when it’s clear that he’s not going to finish the sentence you say, “I can call.” Because if the conversation goes badly, you know you can handle that better than Brian will. “Is there anything specific you want me to ask them, besides that?”

“If they can make it from my measurements, without me needing to go in at all?” Brian jokes weakly, but it falls somewhat flat and he sighs, and says, “We do need to make sure that they’ll be discreet, and I’d rather not have to ask Jim for an NDA for them to sign.”

You bite your lip to stop from laughing at the mental image of Brian having _that_ particular conversation with Jim Beach. “I agree. Let’s try to not to tell anyone _else_ about our plans, shall we?”

That gets Brian chuckling, and it’s such a relief to hear that you find yourself smiling brightly up at him. “Yes, well, at least telling Freddie got us the name of a corsetmaker, which is more than we had before,” Brian points out. He hands you your cup with a smile of his own and kisses you on the cheek. “Come on, let’s go sit down before we ruin this tea as well.”

\------------------------------------

The next morning you wake late, after Brian has already left for the studio, and as you stumble into the kitchen in search of caffeine your eyes fall on a small note left on the counter. _Corsets by Charlotte_ , it reads in Brian’s handwriting, followed by a phone number. 

Right. You _did_ say that you’d make the initial phone call…

Even setting aside Brian’s insecurities it _does_ make more sense for you to call anyway. You’re not recognizable like he is, and you have more time and privacy on your hands than Brian does on recording days, but you still find yourself jittery as you dial the number and listen to it ring, nervous about everything even though you know you shouldn’t be. 

The call connects and a bright voice on the other end says, “Costumes by Charlotte! This is Vicki speaking, how may I help you?”

The _Costumes_ part of the greeting throws you for a loop and you find yourself stammering, “Ah, I’m- Well, I was told that you might sell corsets…?” You desperately hope that Freddie’s information isn’t outdated, because you’re not sure where else to turn if this lead is a dud.

“We do, but you’ll have to talk to Charlotte directly for that. Hold on a second, let me get her.”

You tap your foot nervously as you wait, twisting the phone cord around your finger, and you jump when a new voice suddenly says, “Lottie here! Vicki says you’re interested in buying a corset?”

“I am.”

“Wonderful! Corsets are a bit of a passion of mine, so it’s always a treat to get a new order,” Lottie says, and even through the phone she sounds genuinely excited. That already puts some of your worries at ease, even before she asks, “Now, is this for yourself, or for a friend…?”

You bite your lip, hesitating for only a split-second before quickly deciding that you can’t beat around the bush with this. “It’s not for me. It’s for my boyfriend.”

“Alright then, that’s not an issue at all,” Lottie says easily. “Do you know what _he’s_ looking for in a corset?”

She sounds matter-of-fact about it and you slump against the wall in relief. “To be honest, this is pretty new territory for both of us. We don’t exactly know what all the options are for everything.”

“Not a problem! It can be pretty overwhelming for beginners,” Lottie says. “Let’s start with the basics. Why does he want to wear one? Is it for fashion, for medical reasons…?” You hesitate for another moment and Lottie laughs lightly and says, “Would it be easier to just make an appointment to come into the shop and we can discuss everything in person?”

“Probably, yes, but… Well, you see my boyfriend is a bit well-known, and given the nature of all of this-”

“I understand, and if it’s any reassurance he’s not the first public figure I’ve made a corset for. Not even the first male one, in fact.” Lottie reassures you, which _certainly_ piques your interest.

“The storefront is fairly discreet, especially since we branched out and changed the shop name to _Costumes_ ,” she continues. “We can schedule an appointment in the evening after regular business hours are over, so there’ll be no other customers, and since I handle all of the corset orders myself you’ll be dealing with me directly. And, of course, if you want me to sign an NDA I have no problems doing so.”

You are so grateful for her no-nonsense response that you don’t hesitate to make the appointment. You’re _pretty_ sure that the band doesn’t have studio time scheduled for Saturday evening, but Lottie reassures you that rescheduling won’t be a problem if something comes up and you take her word for it. 

You jot down the shop address on the note that Brian left and tack it to the front of the fridge, where you let Brian discover it when he gets home that evening. You fill him in on the brief but illuminating phone conversation as the two of you make dinner, and you’re pleased to see that Brian is genuinely and enthusiastically _excited_ about the upcoming appointment.

You’re even _more_ pleased when, later that evening, he pulls you into the bedroom to work out some of that excitement with you. 

He knows your body as well as you know his. He knows the spots that make you squirm, make you sigh, make you scream- knows where to kiss and where to bite, knows how to bring you to overwhelming pleasure again and again with his mouth and his fingers, and his cock when he finally, _finally_ , pushes inside you. 

And as much as Brian loves to tease you, once he finally starts fucking you he doesn’t hold back at all even as he remains attentive almost to a fault, bringing a hand between your bodies to make sure that you reach your peak before he follows you over that edge.

Brian collapses on the bed next to you, breathing heavily and fumbling for your hand. You find his and gently lace your fingers together, knowing that Brian likes little gestures of contact like that after sex. There’s still a vulnerability to him in the afterglow, even when he doesn’t sub and even when kink isn’t involved at all, and after several minutes you kiss Brian on the neck and rouse yourself to get a washcloth to clean up- despite Brian’s protest that he was just about to do that himself. 

Brian’s excitement lingers for most of the week, but his nerves return with a vengeance when Saturday morning finally dawns. He frets about the house for most of the day, tense and on-edge, and nothing you try seems to calm him down. You half-expect him to call the whole thing off, and you’re more than a little surprised that Brian doesn’t hesitate or put up any protest when the time comes to leave for the appointment.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” you ask as Brian parks the car and sits for a moment staring at the storefront across the street. 

“Yes. I’m fine.” Brian turns to you and smiles, and it’s a little forced but he doesn’t really look like he’s dreading what’s to come. “A bit nervous, but I think I’m allowed to be.”

“You are,” you agree. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

Brian takes a deep breath but nods, and the two of you finally step out of the car. 

The storefront is closed, but as you approach the door it’s opened and you’re greeted by a brightly smiling young woman. “I’m Lottie,” she introduces as she ushers you inside. “I’d ask if you’re my evening appointment, but I can’t imagine any other reason why Brian May would be stopping by my little shop.”

Brian laughs, self-conscious, as Lottie closes the door and locks it again. “Yes, that would be me. Guess it was too much to hope that I wouldn’t be recognized.”

“The hair is a bit of a giveaway,” Lottie jokes. “And, of course, I know Freddie from university. He always said he’d send business my way, but I wasn’t expecting it to be one of his bandmates!” She laughs and shakes her head, before adding, “But come on, let’s head into the back and we can have a nice little chat about what you’re looking for here.”

She leads the way to a smaller room in the back of the store, with several ready-made corsets hanging on a rack in the corner and a few chairs set up around a table. Once you’re all seated she grabs a notebook, smiles at the two of you again, and gets right to the point. “Forgive me for being blunt, Mr. May, but you’re looking for a corset for, shall we say, _intimate_ reasons, aren’t you?”

Your eyes immediately bug out in shock and Brian’s face flushes bright red with embarrassment. “I, ah, I don’t really see why the _reason_ is important-”

“On the contrary, it’s very important. _Why_ a corset is worn determines _how_ it is made- what materials are used, what size it is, how much stress it can withstand…” 

Lottie jots down a few notes, and then sets her pen aside and folds her hands over the notebook, giving both of you a no-nonsense look. “I don’t believe in beating around the bush with this, so let me lay all of my cards down on the table and you can decide if you want to proceed or not. Prices for a custom-made corset from me begin at £30. It will be fitted to you perfectly, so there are no returns after it’s made.”

You and Brian exchange a quick look, before he says, “The price isn’t an issue.”

“Well I’m certainly glad to hear that,” Lottie says. “Now, if I’m wrong about why you want the corset please let me know so I can make sure we’re on the same page here with regards to its construction but I do need to know _something_ about what you want out of this.” 

When neither of you are quick to say anything she sighs and adds, “If it makes you feel better, most of my customers buy for modelling or fetish play since corsetry isn’t exactly fashionable these days, so if that’s why you’re here I don’t mind in the slightest. I only mind when I need to make something for a wedding.”

“Why do you mind if it’s for a wedding?” you ask, curious.

Lottie smirks and says, “Because it is a _nightmare_ dealing with picky brides.”

Brian laughs, and you’re surprised to hear how genuine it sounds. When you glance at him he seems fairly relaxed, considering the setting and the conversation so far, and that helps you calm down a little as well. 

“I can see why Freddie recommended we come to you,” Brian says, sounding amused despite himself. “And…” He huffs and, with a small shake of his head, admits, “Yes. You’re right about why I’m here. Can I ask how you knew, though?”

“Like I said, models and fetishists make up the bulk of my corset clientele- outside of film productions, of course,” Lottie says. “You’re not a model, and you’re _certainly_ not going to wear a corset for one of your concerts, so it was an easy guess from there.”

“Easy. Of course,” you mutter. Brian grabs your hand underneath the table and gives it a gentle squeeze. His palm is a little clammy, a testament to his lingering nerves, but if he hasn’t bolted from this conversation yet you suppose you can’t get too testy about Lottie’s bluntness. 

“Now, can I ask where your interests more specifically lie? Do you need this to be practical, or is it purely decorative?” Lottie asks. 

“Practical,” Brian says. “I, ah-” He clears his throat but doesn’t finish that particular sentence. 

“Thank you, that’s good to know.” Lottie quickly scribbles a few more notes, and then stands abruptly and grabs a tape measure that’s hanging off the end of the corset rack. “Please stand up, Mr. May. I need to take your measurements.”

Brian stands and you watch as Lottie wraps the tape measure around him and takes several quick and precise measurements along your torso. Brian stands completely still, eyes locked with yours and a look of bemusement on his still-flushed face as Lottie works. 

“There, that should do it for now,” she says after a moment, tossing the tape measure aside again. “Now, have you worn a corset before?” Brian shakes his head and Lottie _tsks_. “Do you want to try one on?”

Brian gives you a questioning look and you shrug, and tell him, “I think it’s a good idea, if you’re comfortable with that. I’d hate to spend this much money only to get home and find out you hate it.”

“That’s a fair point,” Brian agrees, turning to Lottie, “Alright. Let’s try one on, then.”

Lottie takes a moment to find a close enough match for Brian’s measurements and from there she makes quick work of wrapping it around his body and doing up the clasps in front. “Now, you always want to fasten up the busk in front when it’s fairly loose,” she explains as she steps around to the back and gathers the laces in her hands. “I won’t do this up too tightly, just enough to give you a bit of an idea…”

Brian is facing you and you can see the exact moment that the corset starts to tighten. He gasps quietly and his eyes widen in surprise - but you can tell from the look on his face that it’s not a _bad_ sort of surprise at all, and you shift in your seat as you watch Brian adjust to the sensation.

Lottie ties off the laces after a moment and says, “There, that’s not too tight, is it?”

Brian shakes his head quickly. “No, not at all.”

“Good-” The rest of her response is cut off as a phone rings elsewhere in the shop. She sighs in irritation and says, “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a moment…” before ducking out of the room. 

You stand up quickly and round the table to stand in front of Brian. His earlier hesitation has been entirely replaced with arousal, and it matches what you’re feeling yourself as you give him a slow once-over. 

“You look good in that,” you tell him. You want to shower him in a thousand compliments but you’re not sure how they would be received, so instead you find yourself asking, “What does it feel like?” Brian doesn’t answer right away and you hum impatiently and add, “Compared to our usual sorts of games, anyway.”

Brian rolls his eyes at that but he says, “It feels… different.”

You laugh softly, just a little, and tease, “Well, I should hope it feels different than a hand around your neck.” You press up against him, hands dropping to his waist- and, _god_ , it’s barely cinched in at all but he still feels smaller under your touch _._ It’s such a small thing, but it makes you flush with a twisted sort of desire. “Describe it for me, baby. I wanna know what it feels like.”

Brian groans, breathy and a little needy already even though you’ve barely done _anything_. “It’s just _there_ ,” he says. “It’s not uncomfortable but I can feel the pressure of it all the way around me and I can’t get away from it. Every time I breathe I can feel it, and if I try to take a deep breath I _can’t_ , and-” 

He whines and rocks against you, desperate despite himself, despite the fact that you’re almost in _public_ , and Lottie could be back at any moment. “It feels so _good_ , Y/N, _god_ -”

“Yeah? I’m glad to hear that.” And you _are_ glad that this harebrained scheme of yours is looking like it’s going to be a success, especially given Brian’s earlier nerves, but the sight of Brian coming undone in front of you is eroding away your control as well. “Now just imagine how good it’ll feel when I pull it even tighter,” you purr, smirking as Brian tries to bite back a whimper at the suggestion. “Or if I do _this_ as well…” 

And you move one hand, slowly, to rest over Brian’s throat- not pressing in, not here, but even that smallest of tease is more than Brian can handle and he arches into your touch, begging, “Y/N, _please-_ ”

You hear footsteps approaching and step back just before Lottie reenters the room- and frankly, it’s not a moment too soon. You’re not sure what you would have done, how far you would have gone, but you’re pretty sure you would have regretted it after the fact. You’re thankful that at least neither you nor Brian are aroused beyond what’s easily hidden, and if Lottie suspects anything she’s tactful enough not to mention it. 

“My apologies for that, let me get you out of that corset now…” Lottie says, untying and deftly loosening the laces. “Feeling alright, Mr. May?”

“Yes,” Brian says, dark eyes locked with yours. “Perfectly alright.”

“Wonderful!” Lottie says. She hangs up the corset as Brian sits back down. You want to touch Brian, tease him, make him keep begging for you… but you settle for finding his hand again underneath the table, and gripping it a bit tighter than you had before. 

“Now then,” Lottie says as she joins you at the table, picking up her pen and giving both of you a bright grin. “Let’s talk about _your_ corset now, shall we?”


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m sorry for almost starting something back in the shop. We have our rule about no public play for a reason, and I shouldn’t have pushed you,” you apologize the moment you and Brian get home. 

Truthfully, that’s not all that you feel uncomfortable about. Despite knowing about Brian’s insecurities and reservations with this, you still found him so gorgeous in the corset that it almost took your breath away. You don’t know whether to compliment him or offer up an apology, but you’re pretty sure neither would be welcome so you don’t voice that particular thought at all.

Brian shakes his head and is quick to reassure you, “Believe me, you didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to - and nothing I haven’t done to you once or twice before myself. _And_ you stopped things before we actually went too far. I certainly wasn’t thinking straight enough to hear Lottie returning.”

“Did the corset actually feel that good?” you ask. “It seemed like you enjoyed it, but…” You shake your head. “I don’t know. Maybe I was just expecting more breathlessness, but you seemed fairly composed. I mean, all things considered.”

Brian takes a moment to consider his answer before he responds, and you like the reassurance of knowing that whatever answer he gives is going to be true, not just the first thing that popped into his mind. 

“Breathing in it was easier than I expected, once I adjusted to it,” he replies. “Maybe that will change when it’s laced tighter or when there’s more exertion involved- I mean, it probably will, I would expect it to, at least. But I _did_ enjoy how it felt today. It still felt restrictive and…” 

He hums, searching for the right words to describe it all. “There was a threat to it all, I suppose. Every time I breathed I felt that restriction, and even if it wasn’t much the possibility of _more_ was always there. And you know that I enjoy being teased with choking almost as much as I enjoy the act itself.”

You laugh a little, because it’s true and because Brian’s explanation lifts a weight of worry off your shoulders. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it, and _I_ , for one, enjoyed seeing you in the corset as well,” you tell him, hoping that that little bit of honesty isn’t pushing too far. “I think once yours is done being made, we’re going to have a lot of fun with it.”

“That sounds like you’re already plotting things…”

“And you aren’t?”

Brian grins at you, a little wickedly. “No, I definitely am,” he admits without reservation. “But I’m _very_ curious to see what you come up with as well.”

“Mm, of course you are.” You push Brian back against the wall, pressing in close to trap him there, even though with his height advantage it would be easy for him to get away if he wanted to… but you know he doesn’t want to. His eyes are wide and dark with desire, and when you slot your thigh between his legs you can feel that he’s already (or still) half-hard.

“I bet that’s all you’ve been thinking of since you put that corset on in the shop, isn’t it?” you purr. “You were sitting there pretending to be so calm while we talked about your corset, but the entire time all you wanted was to get laced back up as tightly as possible. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Brian gasps. He rocks against you and tries to lean down to steal a kiss, but you keep just out of his reach, brushing your lips barely over his but not giving him what he wants. “Please, Y/N…”

“Please, what?” you tease. “Please kiss you? Please touch you? Please tell you all the dirty plans I have for you once I get you into that corset?”

“Yes- yes, all of it, _please_ -”

You surge forward and kiss him roughly, hotly, tangling one hand in his hair to hold him in place as you undo his jeans with your other, shoving them down just far enough to pull out his cock. 

“You wanna hear what I’m gonna do to you, baby?” you murmur against his mouth as you start to stroke him, teasing at the head of cock and smirking as he whines and bucks into your touch. “Gonna lace it so tight, Bri, you won’t be able to _think_ let alone breathe, and then I’m gonna pull it even tighter. Gonna tie you up and leave you like that for hours, darling, leave you squirming and panting for me…”

Brian is squirming _now_ , thrusting desperately into your hand and writhing against you. Normally you’d be inclined to punish him for that but he looks so _beautiful_ like this, coming undone so easily and with the barest amount of effort, that instead you speed up your strokes to hurry him towards his orgasm. 

“Maybe I’ll be nice and play with you, make you come over and over until you can’t catch your breath at all and you’re begging me to stop.” You twist your hand and tighten your grip in his hair, and he’s _so close_ now, whimpering and shuddering beneath you, and you lean in close to murmur in his ear, “Or maybe you’ll be so fucking turned on that I could leave you there alone and you’d come completely untouched all over your _pretty_ little corset-”

With a loud cry Brian’s orgasm crashes through him and he clings to you, shuddering and gasping as you stroke him through it, until his knees buckle and you ease him to the floor. He leans against you, panting and shaking, and you give him a few moments to recover, carding your clean fingers gently through his hair to ground him. 

After a few moments he nuzzles against you and you gasp, biting your lip as you try to stop yourself from grinding against his face. “Babe, you don’t have to-”

“Let me, please,” Brian mumbles, still clearly coming down from his orgasm, but he reaches up to undo your jeans, and how can you possibly deny Brian anything right now?

Brian’s mouth is positively _sinful_ , his tongue quick and clever against your most sensitive parts, even when he’s sex-drunk and so far under that you can gently tighten your grip on his head to guide his movements to the exact rhythm that makes you see stars. 

“Bri… Brian…” you pant, feeling your peak approaching almost embarrassingly quickly. “You’re so good for me, so fucking good…”

Brian looks up at you with slightly glazed but adoring eyes- and that’s enough to tip you over. You buck against Brian’s face and he groans against you, the vibrations of it making you cry out in heightened pleasure. When the sensations become too much to bear and you take one stumbling step back, Brian’s mouth is soaked with spit and come and you moan at the sight of it all. 

You kneel down as well, gathering Brian in your arms, and he slumps against you as the two of you catch your breath. You kiss the top of his head and murmur praises that are mostly lost in the mess of Brian’s hair, but he nuzzles against you with a happy sigh so you know he understands the intent behind your words at least. 

It’s only later, well after you’ve both gotten cleaned up and moved on with your evening, that Brian brings up corsets again. “You know, you’re more into the corset thing than I was expecting you to be,” he remarks, out of the blue.

“What do you mean?” you ask and you give him a curious look. You’ve always been supportive of Brian’s kinks, like he is of yours, so you’re not quite sure why he’s surprised now. “I know how much you like the breathplay. Why wouldn’t I embrace this with you?”

Brian shakes his head. “No, no I mean- the corset itself. You, ah- you seemed to enjoy seeing me in it, even aside from the breathplay aspect. And you _really_ seem eager to lace me up in my corset when it’s done.”

“Why _wouldn’t_ I be eager to lace you up?” you ask, because it’s safer to focus on that than the rest of Brian’s question. “Honestly, I never thought of it before but seeing your waist cinched in like that… It’s like when I tie you up and use the rope to accent certain parts of your body. It’s like I can physically see the control you give me in those moments, and I like that.”

“Oh. Huh. That would make sense,” Brian says, voice thoughtful. “So it’s not really about the corset itself at all then?”

You can feel your face start to grow hot with embarrassment. For a moment you seriously consider lying to Brian even though you know that wouldn’t be fair to him, but you finally admit, “All kinks aside, you did look _very_ nice in the corset, Brian. It was very flattering on you, but I didn’t want to say too much and make you uncomfortable-”

“Y/N, it’s alright,” Brian interrupts, with a small laugh. He kisses you, soft and tender, before adding, “I don’t have a problem with compliments if they’re coming from you. _Especially_ when I’m subbing, you know that.”

You do know that. Brian thrives off praise and adoration, which is good because he always looks gorgeous and he makes it so _easy_ to shower him with a thousand well-deserved compliments. But you’re still nervous about this, and you can’t help but ask, “Are you sure? You were so worried about the idea of the corset at first, that I don’t want to cross a line anywhere…”

“I appreciate that very much, but I honestly don’t think you will,” Brian tells you. “And if you do, I’ll speak up and we’ll talk it over, like we would for anything else. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, and you manage to give him a small smile.

Brian’s reassurances have soothed away most of your lingering unease and guilt. You curl against his side, sighing contentedly as he drapes an arm around your shoulders to hold you close, and you ask, “Anything else on your mind?”

Despite the conversations you’ve already had, and the time its taken to even get this far, you’re not naive enough to think that you’ve adequately discussed every subject or angle with this. You also know that it’s not really possible to do that, but you wish it was. You wish you could analyze every single detail so that when the scene was finally underway there were no hiccups and no reservations and nothing ever went wrong.

Even if you don’t say any of that Brian knows you- and your anxieties- far too well. “Nothing else right now,” he says. “If anything else comes up we’ll talk it through, but I think we’ll be alright. All we can really do now is wait for Lottie to finish the corset anyway.”

And, as it turns out, you don’t have very long to wait for that after all. Brian has his first fitting a few days later, which he insists on going to alone- “So we don’t get up to any more antics in the shop,” he jokes- and it’s only a week after that when Lottie calls to let you know that the final corset is ready to be picked up. 

“Are you sure you want me to come along? Maybe I won’t be able to control myself this time…” you tease as Brian hands you your jacket and ushers you quickly out of the house. You’re both eager to get over to the shop, and Brian isn’t bothering to hide his excitement at all. 

He laughs as he opens the car door for you. "Lottie wants to go over proper lacing techniques with us, so we need to control ourselves- at least until we get home.”

As with last time the shop is closed when you arrive, and Lottie greets you with a bright smile. “Can I just say, I’ve had a _wonderful_ time working on your corset,” she says as she leads you into the same room as before. “Especially after-” She laughs, glancing at Brian, and says, “Well, let’s just put this on you and see how it looks!”

You give Brian a curious look, but he just smirks and strips out of both his jacket and his dress shirt, leaving him only in a thin t-shirt. 

“Now, the oils of your skin can damage the fabric- and this isn’t something you can just throw in a washing machine, you know. I’ll send you home with a liner or you can wear a t-shirt like that one,” Lottie says. 

You have a moment of wondering what Brian would look like wearing _less_ than he is now… a tank top perhaps, to show off his arms, or just the liner that Lottie mentioned so all that beautiful skin is on display for you… and then you notice the corset that Lottie is wrapping around Brian, and you nearly lose the ability to think entirely. 

The original corset plans had been straightforward and simple: all white, in a simple but sturdy cotton fabric. Functional first and foremost, and decidedly understated to avoid something that looked too much like lingerie and would trigger Brian’s insecurities. 

The corset that Brian is wearing, that Lottie is carefully tightening, that has Brian gasping and flushing and looking at you with dark eyes, is _not_ that corset. 

This one is still white, technically, but now sewn up in a heavy brocade with a subtle pattern that shimmers as it catches the light. The corset is trimmed in black, with black laces that Lottie ties off with quick precision… and black lace appliques now decorating the middle of the corset, resting along Brian’s hips and drawing the eyes to point where his waist is cinched in.

You only realize that your mouth is hanging open in shock when you hear Brian’s soft laugh. “You like it, then?” he asks, with a knowing little smile. “After our little conversation, I asked Lottie to change up the design a bit when I came in for that fitting.”

“Like it?” You let out a breathless laugh and, unable to help yourself, surge forward to kiss Brian, though you keep it brief and chaste. “Baby, I _love_ it. You look absolutely incredible.”

And he _does_ look beautiful. His cheeks are rosy from both arousal and a hint of embarrassment but he’s beaming at you with a wide smile, and when your hands settle around his waist he makes an aborted move to rock against you, before he catches himself and stops.

“I’m very glad you both like it,” Lottie says, with a smile of her own. “Now, there’s one last thing to discuss, and that’s how to break the corset in.”

Some of the dazed excitement fades from Brian’s eyes, but he asks, “What do we need to do?”

“I usually recommend the 2-2-2 method. Tighten it by two inches, for two hours a day, over a period of two weeks,” Lottie says. 

“ _Two weeks_?” Brian echoes, sounding dismayed. 

“Obviously once you leave the shop I can’t control what you do,” Lottie says. “But if you try to lace it too tightly right from the beginning you can damage the corset, or hurt yourself if you’re not careful. That corset can lace in tighter than two inches and your body isn’t used to that, after all.”

“We’ll break it in, don’t worry,” you tell her. Brian huffs, and you give him a pointed look. “There’s no harm in _taking your time_ with some things.”

Brian’s eyes widen as he picks up on the hidden meaning in your words. The whole point of this new adventure was, after all, to find a way to _take your time_ with the breathplay. Maybe this wasn’t quite what you had expected, but your mind is already racing with possibilities for the next two weeks. 

“Good. I hate seeing my hard work ruined by someone’s impatience,” Lottie says. “Now, the corset is laced in about two inches now, so that’s what you’re aiming for over the next two weeks. And I think that’s about everything so, Brian, do you want me to take that off, or do you want to wear it out of the shop?”

Brian looks at you questioningly, and you give him a small shake of the head and a tiny shrug. You may take on the dominant role when it comes to the breathplay, but this isn’t a decision you can make for Brian. The thought of Brian driving home with a corset hidden under his jacket makes your entire body light up with desire but neither of you are typically ones for public play, and you won’t force Brian even further outside his comfort zone.

“I think I’ll wear it home,” Brian says, and you have to bite your lip to hold back a moan. 

“Wonderful! Now, as we discussed at the fitting, the final cost is £50. I’ll have your invoice ready for payment up front whenever you’re ready,” Lottie says, and then she leaves the room. 

It takes more effort than you thought was possible to let go of Brian’s waist and take a step back. “I want to fucking _ruin_ you right now,” you say in a low voice. “God, Brian, that corset is stunning- _you’re_ stunning, I can’t stand it-”

Brian exhales sharply, and when he reaches for his shirt you can see that his hands are shaking slightly. “When you told me that you liked how I looked wearing the corset, I wanted to make sure the final product was something you’d enjoy as well.”

“I would have enjoyed seeing you in the plain corset we originally planned… but I can’t deny that I do love the changes you made.” You give him a quick peck on the cheek, because you don’t trust yourself not to get carried away if you kissed him on the lips, and you do up two more buttons on his shirt. “You can’t leave this as open as you usually do, darling, or someone will see our little secret.”

Truthfully, there's nothing to see once Brian has his jacket on. His clothes are loose enough to hide the cinching around his waist, and only his ramrod-straight spine gives away the slightest hint of what’s hiding beneath the surface. 

You steal the car keys from Brian when you leave the shop, telling him, “I think you might be a bit too distracted to drive right now.”

“And you’re not distracted at all?” Brian says dryly- but his composure is ruined as he sits down in the car. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he groans, already sounding strained. You watch as he tries to arch his back to find a more comfortable position, but there’s no give to the corset. “Sitting is, ah, harder than I was expecting…”

That’s not the only thing that’s harder. You can see the tell-tale bulge in Brian’s jeans, and he’s not the only one affected by the situation. Brian squirms in his seat the entire drive home, the worst sort of temptation, and you grip the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles are practically white. 

As soon as you get home you lead Brian into the bedroom. You kiss him roughly, drawing it out long enough to strip off Brian’s jacket and coat, undo his belt and push his jeans down his thighs. When you pull away you’re breathless, and Brian is gasping as he struggles to draw enough air back into his restricted lungs. 

“Color, Bri?” you ask, and his answering, “ _Green_ ,” is breathy but his conviction is firm. 

“Good.” You take a step back and start to strip off your own clothes as you order, “Finish taking your jeans off and kneel for me.”

“Pants too?” Brian asks, as he quickly pulls off his jeans. 

You shake your head, and sit down on the edge of the bed, naked. “No. Leave them on- and _kneel_ , Brian. I won’t ask again.” 

Brian sinks, slowly, down to his knees with a quiet gasp. “Oh- oh _god_ , Y/N, you have no idea what this feels like…”

He reaches down to touch himself but you stop him with a sharp, “ _No_ , Brian. Hands behind your back. You’re not to touch yourself, do you understand?”

Brian moans but he does as you say. He grips his wrists behind his back and looks up at you with eyes blown wide with lust, panting and trying so hard to stay still for you. 

“Fuck, Bri, you look gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous, babe,” you praise, reaching one hand down to touch yourself. You’re not going to last long but that’s okay, because you know this is only the first of many scenes like this. “You’ve never had better posture than this, honey, should’ve gotten a corset _ages_ ago just for that alone…”

Brian whines, needy, strained. He squirms but the steel-boning and heavy fabric of the corset have such little give that even as he shifts his entire torso remains straight and unyielding. “Y/N, please, let me taste you, let me touch you, _please_ -”

“Not today,” you tell him, groaning as your fingers tease over yourself. “Today you’re going to kneel there and describe what it feels like while I get myself off.”

“You know what it feels like,” Brian tries to deflect. “I told you that first day we went to Lottie’s shop-”

“ _Tell me_ ,” you order. “I want to hear it now, when you’re kneeling in front of me in _your_ corset, when you’re laced down two whole inches and so fucking _desperate_ for me.”

Brian whimpers but he _is_ desperate and he starts to babble, “Fuck, Y/N, it feels- it feels _tight_ and strong and- and there’s no give, not _anywhere_ , and the pressure feels sharper when I’m not standing, and- and-”

Brian is trying to subtly rock his hips, but you let it slide. You can see how the corset limits the movement, even around his hips, and anyway there’s nothing for him to rub against, no way to get friction against his painfully hard cock. He looks nearly _wrecked_ already, even though you haven’t touched him, even though the corset is nowhere near as tight as it can go, and it’s enough to drive you wild. 

“How does it feel to breathe in it?” you ask, speeding up the movement of your hand, your other drifting up to ghost across your chest, tease along your nipples. “What’s it like to feel it against your chest with every inhale?”

“Good, it’s so good, it’s so fucking good,” Brian moans, shameless and desperate. “I can’t- it feels like I can’t catch my breath, feels so _good_ , Y/N, _please_ let me come-”

Brian’s begging tips you over the edge and you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, so hard that your vision almost whites out, and you shake and writhe on the edge of the bed as you work yourself through it, Brian’s moans and breathless panting sending fire licking up your spine, until you collapse, boneless, against the bed. 

Brian is still whimpering and begging, and when you look down at him you can see that he’s still kneeling in the same position, his hands still behind his back, though he’s practically _shaking_ with need. He’s so turned on that he’s winding himself up without you needing to do anything at all. Even if he had no problems breathing in the corset under normal circumstances, he’s panting so heavily, breathing so shallowly, that you know that he has to be feeling light-headed by now. 

You sink down to kneel in front of him, gathering him in your arms and murmuring, “You can move, Brian, you did so well, you’re so good for me…”

Brian’s hands immediately fly up to cling to your shoulders and he begs again, “Please let me come, please _please_ let me come-”

“You can come when the corset comes off,” you tell Brian and the noise he lets out would have been a sob, if he had enough breath for it. “The first time you come while wearing that is going to be after we break it in, when it’s laced as tightly as I can possibly get it. So you’re going to stay like that, laced up and desperate to come, until today’s two hours are up. Do you understand?”

Brian whines and buries his face against your neck, but he nods and you can feel him trying to calm down, to take slow and deep breaths despite the corset restricting his attempts. 

“Color, Brian?” you ask again, because even though you’ve played similar games with Brian in the past the corset brings an entirely new element to this and you need to be careful here. 

“Green,” he says, without hesitation, and his voice sounds a little more calm than it had been even just moments before. 

“Good boy.” You rub one hand along his back, and press a kiss to his temple. “My perfect, good boy.”

You feel Brian shudder at the praise, before sagging against you- at least, as much as the corset will allow him to.


	4. Chapter 4

You and Brian learn a lot about corsets over those first few days. You learn how easy is it to lace Brian’s corset to the required two inches, and how easy it would be (will be) to lace it even tighter. Brian learns how to breathe without hyperventilating, and how to get to that point when he wants it. You learn the patterns that the corset leaves on Brian’s skin, and he learns how quickly they fade and how to hide them if they linger. 

You both learn that two hours is a fickle amount of time. When Brian isn’t laced up two hours can pass in the blink of an eye, but the moment he puts that corset on two hours feels like a small eternity. You don’t always start a scene when Brian puts it on, but regardless of how those two hours are spent you’re firm on not letting him come while he’s wearing the corset. Maybe it’s silly of you, but you want the first time you properly and _fully_ explore the breathplay possibilities of the corset to be something special. 

And then, barely a week into breaking in the corset, you learn that Queen are almost done with this block of time in the studio. There’s a break planned afterwards, before they return to recording later in the year, but you know that they’ll still want these first few songs to be perfected before the band goes their separate ways for a few months. 

Brian’s days start getting longer, beginning earlier and running later into the evening. He comes home half-exhausted, puts off being laced into the corset for as long as possible, and when you do take it off there’s no frantic desperation to come. Brian falls asleep early, leaves before you wake up in the morning, and it’s an unfortunate routine that you’ve grown used to over the years but it feels wrong, somehow, now that you’ve fucked up the timing and mixed kink in with it all.

On the third-to-last evening of breaking in the corset, Brian dozes off on the couch while still wearing it. Unable to properly slouch in his sleep, Brian’s head is instead slumped against the back of the couch while his torso remains rigidly held in place by the corset. It looks like a horrifically uncomfortable position to be in and, even though you know he needs the rest, you gently shake him awake. 

He blinks blearily at you and tries to shift, forgetting in his exhaustion that he’s still wearing the corset. He groans as it restricts his movement and the sound does absolutely nothing to rile you up. 

“Sorry, but you would’ve had the worst crick in your neck if you kept sleeping like that,” you apologize, gently brushing his hair away from his face. 

“‘s fine,” he mumbles. “How much longer do I have to wear this tonight?”

And in that moment you are so _done_ with this entire process, and you say, “We can take it off now, if you want.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fucking exhausted and the last thing you should be worrying about right now is this damn corset,” you say, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice despite your efforts to remain calm. “Maybe we should put the whole thing on hold, just until you’re done recording.”

Brian, stubborn as ever, shakes his head. “No, we’re almost done, let’s just see this through and-”

“And what?” you interrupt. “Even after we break it in, I’m not tight-lacing you in it when you come home from the studio half-asleep every day!”

“I’m not asking you to. Let’s just finish these last few days of breaking it in, and we can set it aside until the band goes on break,” Brian says. 

“There’s only a few days left, though. Why don’t we stop now and pick it up again later?” you ask. 

Brian sighs, closing his eyes and slumping down as much as the corset will allow. “Because it’s important to me that we do this properly first.”

“But-”

“Y/N, please,” Brian cuts in. “I’m too tired to fight with you about this now. All I’m asking is that we finish out the next few days, so that when I’m not dead on my feet we can jump straight back into this.”

You immediately feel awful for pushing the issue so hard right now. You kiss Brian’s cheek and apologize, saying, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, I just hate seeing you this tired.”

Brian sighs. “I know. But honestly, apart from how it restricts my movement the corset isn’t _that_ uncomfortable laced like this anymore. We’re doing something right here with breaking it in, and I want to finish this so we don’t have to worry about it later.”

“Alright,” you agree. You’re still not thrilled at the idea of Brian putting himself through this for the next few days, but it helps to know that he’s not in pain during these two hours- just tired beyond belief, which he’d still be even without wearing the corset. “Well, to answer your original question, you only have about twenty minutes left of wearing it tonight.”

“Good, because I just want to go to _sleep_.”

You laugh softly, just a little, and you can’t help but tease, “Yeah, that was obvious from your little cat-nap…”

Brian smiles and lets his eyes slip shut again, just for a moment, before he slowly forces them open with a tired blink. “Well, another week or so and we’ll be done in the studio, so…”

True to his word, Brian finishes breaking in the corset over the next few days, after which you’re more than happy to leave it hanging in the closet until Queen is done in the studio and Brian can rest up a bit. You do your best not to fuss over him too much, knowing that his patience wears thin when he’s running on fumes like this, and you count down the days until he’s done recording. 

And then Brian tells you that Queen has extended their studio time by another week. Silently, you wonder whether the universe has decided to just conspire against you to make sure that you and Brian never get the chance to have wild, kinky sex ever again. 

Aloud, you tell Brian, “Okay but, for the record, I kind of want to strangle whoever suggested that you keep working yourselves to the bone.”

He lets out a bark of laughter and asks, “Do you promise?”

You recognize that spark of amused mischief in his tired eyes and sigh, but can’t quite keep a fond smile off your face. “You’re the one who asked for more studio time, aren’t you?”

“It’s mainly my song that’s holding us up so, yes, I did,” Brian says. “I’m sorry, I know you’ve been waiting for us to finish recording so we can properly try out the corset, but-”

“But Queen is more important than that,” you interrupt gently. “It’s fine, Brian, I don’t mind.” He gives you a look and you roll your eyes, adding, “Fine, I mind that you’re not getting nearly enough sleep these days, but honestly the kink can wait.”

You take a step closer to Brian and drop your hands to his waist, hands sliding up under his shirt to stroke along his back and sides. “Besides,” you say in a low purr. “The longer we wait, the more time I have to plan things out… maybe I won’t be strangling you, darling, but I _promise_ everything will still be better than perfect.”

Brian whimpers, and you can feel him shiver at your gentle touch. “That’s not fair, Y/N.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” you leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

Brian tries to chase it but his movements are slow and sluggish, and he whines low in his throat when you pull away. “Teasing me when I’m too tired for sex,” he says, a mumbled complaint that makes your heart ache with fondness. 

You lean up to give him a proper kiss this time, and even though you know he’s exhausted you still enjoy the way he melts against you. “Who said anything about sex?” you ask, the words almost lost against Brian’s lips. “Just let me take care of you, Brian. Let me make you feel good.”

Brian moans softly, but he’s still holding back. “If I come, I’m gonna fall asleep before I can return the favor.”

“I think I can take care of myself for one night,” you tell him, trying not to laugh. “Come on, Bri. Let’s go to bed.”

Brian is soft and pliable under your touch, but he really is too exhausted for you to feel good about teasing him too much. You help him strip out of his clothes, and once he’s spread out on the bed beneath you you don’t waste any time in taking his cock in your mouth even though he’s still a little soft. He finishes growing hard on your tongue as he cries out and shakes beneath you, his hands holding your head even though he doesn’t have the energy to direct your movements. 

Brian may like it when you draw things out, but tonight you’re quick to swallow him down almost to the base, drawing back to tease at the head of his cock only when you need to breathe, and it only takes a few repetitions of that before he arches up and comes deep down your throat with a wordless cry. You swallow around him a few times before drawing back to suckle at his tip, only stopping when his moans and whimpers start to take on a note of pain. 

He does fall asleep before he can make any motions about wanting to get you off as well, but you expected that and frankly your own pleasure is the last thing on your mind at the moment. You curl up next to him in bed and pull the covers over both of you, and when Brian is once again gone before you wake up in the morning you just remind yourself, yet again, that he’ll be done with this stretch of recording soon enough. 

Brian calls you from the studio on the last day they have booked and you brace yourself for him to tell you that they’re extending things yet _again_. But instead he tells you, tired but cheerful, that they’ve wrapped up the songs they were working on and are going out to celebrate, just the four of them, that night. 

“I mean, if you don’t mind, that is,” Brian adds at the end of his rambling explanation. 

“Why would I mind?” you ask with a laugh. “Go out and have fun, you guys deserve it.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Brian says, “I didn’t know if maybe you had _plans_ now that we’re done in the studio.”

You know what Brian means immediately. “I told you, Bri, we aren’t doing anything until you’re well-rested again,” you tell him. Brian huffs, and before he can try to talk you into this you add, “No. I’m not taking any risks with this. You can wait another day or two, it won’t kill you.”

“Maybe it will, you don’t know,” Brian says, and you don’t feel bad about laughing because you know that he’s joking now. “You sure you don’t mind me going out, though? I’ll probably be back pretty late.”

“I don’t mind, honestly,” you assure him. “Go out, have a few drinks, tell the others I said hi. I’ll see you when you get home, whenever that is.”

You aren’t expecting Brian to be out too late, given how tired they all have to be by this point, but it’s still nearly 10 o’clock by the time you hear his key in the lock. You can hear him fumbling with it, and you get to the door and open it before Brian manages to figure out how to do it himself. 

“Y/N!” he says, with the loud exuberance that only drunk people seem to manage. “‘s you!”

“Yes, it’s me,” you say with a laugh. Brian is swaying unsteadily on his feet and you’re quick to wrap an arm around his waist to hold him upright as you close the door and start carefully shuffling him towards the bedroom. “Seems like you had a good night out.”

“Was fun, but I missed you,” Brian says. He tries to nuzzle against you but leaning down throws his balance off and you both nearly topple over, before you manage to deposit him clumsily on the bed instead. 

You pull off Brian’s shoes and wrestle him out of his jeans and shirt, the undressing made difficult by the fact that Brian keeps trying to grab your hand. He whines when you disentangle yourself from him, and as you start to leave the room he tries to stand up and follow you. 

“Bri, no, c’mon stay here, I’m just getting you a glass of water and some painkillers.” You push him back down onto the bed and kiss the top of his head. “I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.”

“You better,” Brian mumbles, and you have to hide a fond smile as you duck out of the room. Drunk Brian is always a bit of a handful, but when it’s just the two of you he’s so affectionate and sweet that it makes your heart melt a little. 

Brian is lying down in bed when you return, which means you have to coax him back upright to drink the glass of water and down the painkillers. “C’mon Brian, if you don’t your hangover will be worse and you’ll be miserable in the morning,” you try to reason with him. 

“‘m not gonna have a hangover,” he insists, burrowing against your side and refusing to move. 

“Yeah? How do you figure that?” you ask. 

“I’m done in the studio, which means it’s corset time so I _can’t_ have a hangover,” he explains.

You bite back a laugh at his simplistic drunken-logic, deciding that it would be too mean to remind him that you already said you weren’t doing _anything_ until he was completely rested up. However you’re not above using this to your advantage and you tell him, “There will be no “corset time” unless you drink this glass of water and take these pills.”

Brian groans but leverages himself mostly-upright, somehow managing to down the water without choking on it before falling back against the pillows. You climb into bed as well and he rolls over to wrap himself around you. His hair is in your face and you _know_ he’s going to be miserably hungover in the morning, but there’s still no other place you’d rather be than here in his arms. 

“Love you. So much,” he mumbles, his voice slurred with both alcohol and exhaustion. “Sorry ‘m drunk.”

You smile fondly at him, even though he can’t see it, and tell him, “It’s fine, and I love you too.”

There’s no response from Brian, but his even breathing tells you that he’s already fallen asleep. You close your eyes and relax in his embrace, and it’s not long after that that you’re asleep as well. 

The following morning you wake up before Brian for the first time in several weeks, and you take a few minutes to savor the moment. Brian looks peaceful when he’s asleep, even if the dark circles under his eyes and the stubble along his jaw are a testament to how worn-down he is from the long days of recording. You’re glad that he’s getting some rest now, and even more glad that the band has a nice stretch of time off before they need to do anything else. 

You kiss Brian’s sleep-soft lips, and untangle yourself from him slowly so you don’t accidentally wake him up. He mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over into the space you vacated but stays asleep, and you slip quietly from the room. 

It’s several hours before you hear Brian moving around in the bedroom, and you put the kettle on and start making toast before he finally emerges. His hair is even more wild than usual and he blinks at you with bleary eyes as you push him down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. 

“How’s the hangover?” you ask him. His answering groan says everything, and you chuckle as you pass over a cup of tea and grab a plate for his toast. “And to think, last night you were convinced that we’d be diving into a scene today…” you tease gently. 

“If you put me in that corset I think I might vomit on you,” Brian mumbles. He grabs the cup of tea, holding it in his hands but making no moves to drink it yet.

You kiss his temple as you set the plate of toast down in front of him. “No corsets today, but are you well enough to talk about things? I want to touch base with you again before we do anything.”

He sighs, and rubs at his eyes. “Give me a few hours to wake up first?” he asks, and you agree to that easily. God knows he wouldn’t retain anything you try to tell him now. 

Later that afternoon, when Brian is more awake and slightly less hungover, the two of you settle down in the living room to talk. It’s more neutral territory than the bedroom, and you keep a slight distance between the two of you to stop yourselves from getting distracted. 

“Before we talk about whatever you have on your mind, can I just ask… You _do_ still want to do this, don’t you?” Brian asks. 

He seems genuinely nervous, and that takes you by surprise. “Of course I do! Why, did you think that I had changed my mind or something?”

Brian shrugs a little, and says, “I don’t know. Every time it’s come up lately, you’ve deflected and put it off and I thought… I don’t know, that maybe once we took that break and things had calmed down you were having second-thoughts.”

“No, not in the slightest,” you tell him. “I’m _so_ sorry if I gave you that impression. I’ve just been worried for you, Brian. I was scared that if we did something while you were still tired from recording that I’d accidentally hurt you, or you’d end up panicking during the scene like when we tried the masks and gags. I just wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong when we finally did this, that’s all.”

“Something could still go wrong, though,” Brian points out with a tentative smile. “You can’t control everything with this, Y/N.”

“No, but I can make sure we aren’t taking any unnecessary risks either,” you say. “Which is why I want to make sure we’re on the same page with this now.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Brian admits. “What did you want to talk about, then?”

“What are your expectations for this scene?” you ask, without preamble. This isn’t the first conversation of this sort that you’ve had with Brian, though it’s been a little while since you’ve had to have one. “How long did you want it to last, how tight do you want the corset to be…?”

“As long as we can and as tight as you can get it,” Brian says. You let out a small, frustrated sigh, but he continues talking before you can say anything. “The whole point of getting the corset was to make this last longer, and I want to explore what that actually looks like… and, frankly, after the two weeks of breaking the corset in I am _very much_ looking forward to getting it laced tighter than just two inches.”

You bite your lip, considering Brian’s words for a moment, before asking, “You’ll safeword if it gets to be too much?” You know that he will, because he has in the past, but you still need to hear that confirmation now.

Brian knows that, and he doesn’t hesitate to tell you, “Yes.” He also doesn’t hesitate to ask you in return, “And you’ll safeword if it gets to be too much for _you_ as well, right?”

“Yes,” you assure him with a wry smile. “And if you panic _again_ , I will stop everything immediately and I’ll cut you out of the damn corset if I have to.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

You laugh, despite the seriousness of the conversation. “That’s what I said back when we first talked about this,” you remind him. “And now look at us, you’re the one eager to get going and I’m the one with all the hesitations.”

“You’re not hesitant. You’re just being safe and practical,” Brian says. “Although, you are killing me a little with the anticipation for this. How much longer are you going to make me wait before we finally do this?”

“A little bit longer,” you say, evasively, and you grin when Brian groans and slouches dramatically down into the couch. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t like the build-up as much as the actual scene itself.”

“I _do_ but this has already been in the works for _weeks_ , Y/N,” Brian whines, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips that tells you that the complaint is good-natured. 

“Yes, so just think about how _satisfying_ it’ll be when you finally wake up one morning and see that corset laid out and waiting for you…” You lean over and kiss him, just a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, adding, “I promise it’ll be this week. I just don’t want to ruin the surprise of _when_ it’s going to happen.”

“Well, alright then,” Brian says, as he pulls you into his lap. “I suppose I can live with that.”


	5. Chapter 5

You don’t do anything else that day, though you know Brian wasn’t expecting you to. The next day you see his look of disappointment when you don’t take the corset out of where it’s hanging in the closet, but he’s still just tired enough that he’s content to spend the day lounging on the sofa watching movies with you ( _no_ period dramas this time, though).

On the third day Brian is visibly antsy, which you were expecting. There’s nothing stopping you from doing anything today, except that you just don’t want to. You want Brian nearly tripping over himself in anticipation first… and, you have to admit, you like watching him squirm as he tries _so hard_ to be good and not pester you about your plans. 

The fourth day, though… 

You wake up and, at first, you act like it’s going to be another normal day. You can see Brian practically biting his tongue to stop himself from asking when you’re finally going to do something, and it takes all of your effort to hold back your pleased smirk at seeing him so eager for this. You’re not going to make him wait any longer and, after breakfast while he’s taking a quick shower, you finally make your move. 

You’re familiar with Brian’s habits and quirks, and you know you don’t have long to get things ready. Brian will skip washing his hair today, towel off and throw on a pair of pants in the bathroom, and then come into the bedroom to finish getting dressed. You know this, and so you lie the corset out on the bed and sit perched next to it where Brian will see you the moment he walks in. 

Brian doesn’t even make it completely into the room. He freezes in the doorway, first staring at you, and then down at the corset, with eyes that are already blown wide with lust and anticipation. “Y/N-” he chokes out and you grin at his reaction, delighted and _amazed_ that you’re still able to work him up like this. 

You crook your finger and motion for Brian to come over. He nearly trips over his feet in his eagerness, and you laugh as you lean up to kiss him one last time before you dive into all your plans. “You ready for this, babe?” you ask him. 

“Yes, god, I’ve _been_ ready,” he says, and he tries to deepen the kiss but you pull away and give him a small push back from you. 

“Good,” you say, before tossing Brian the liner you had gotten from Lottie. He pulls it on quickly and you wait until he looks at you excitedly, expectedly, before picking up the corset… and holding it out to him. “Put it on.”

Brian makes a noise like all the air was suddenly punched out of him. "What?"

"Put it on," you repeat. Your smile is a bit too sharp to really pass as _sweet_ but that's okay, because you know how much this simple order is affecting Brian. You can see it in his eyes, in the clearly visible bulge in his pants, in the way his hands shake as he reaches out and takes the corset from you. 

He wraps it around his body and you _tsk_ , and tell him, “That’s upside-down, Brian. Put it on _correctly_ , now, or we won’t be doing anything today.”

Brian’s face is bright red with humiliation and arousal, but he flips the corset around and fumbles with the latches along the busk. Once those are fastened and he adjusts the corset so it’s sitting in the right position, he grabs the laces and gives you a questioning look. “Do you want me to…?”

“Yes, go on, lace yourself up,” you tell him. “I think I did enough work, lacing you up every night for the two weeks that we were breaking it in. It’s your turn now.”

Brian nods and starts to pull on the laces, letting out a tiny whimper as the corset tightens around him. It’s an absolute treat to watch Brian do this to himself, to watch the expressions he makes and the way you can visibly see his waist shrink as he pulls the laces in tighter. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to hold back a moan of your own, and it takes all your self-control to stay seated on the edge of the bed instead of jumping on Brian right now.

“How tight?” Brian asks. You can already hear the strain in his voice, and can see the shallower breaths that the corset is forcing him to take. 

“As tight as you want it,” you say, and Brian lets out a broken moan. “Just make sure you get the lacing lying flat in the back, and tie it off in a pretty little bow for me when you’re done.”

Brian cinches the laces tighter one more time before he twists his arm back to check that he gathered in all the slack from the laces. You know that even doing that much has to be a strain when he’s laced this tightly, and sure enough when he ties off the laces and drops his arms you can see how badly they’re shaking. 

“Turn around,” you order. “Let me see.”

Brian does, and you groan as you see just how _much_ Brian has laced down. It’s far more than the two inches you did during the training, but more importantly there’s still room in the corset for it to go down even _further_. That’s going to be helpful later… if you manage to hold out that long. 

You stand up and crowd against Brian’s back, hands dropping down to his now-tiny waist, as you nuzzle the back of his neck. “Perfect, baby, you’re so good, you look fucking gorgeous,” you praise. “So beautiful in your corset, _god_ , you’re incredible.”

And Brian _is_ gorgeous, with his waist forced into an uncomfortable hourglass shape and a flush spreading down the back of his neck and across his shoulders. If you turned him around you know you’d be able to see that flush extending down his chest, almost down to where his nipples are exposed above the top of the corset. You’d be able to see the long lines of his legs, his cock straining at his pants, the corset digging into his hips and miles of exposed skin waiting for you to kiss and bite and suck bruises into.

You wonder, briefly, what Brian would look like if his corset _was_ accompanied by lingerie… The image of Brian in lacy panties or stockings, maybe with a plug inside him so he couldn’t help but squirm as you made him kneel for you, was certainly a delicious one, but you push the thought from your mind. Maybe, down the road, you’ll suggest that to Brian, but not today.

Brian tilts his head back to rest on your shoulder, and you can’t resist sliding one hand up to lay it across his neck. You don’t apply any pressure but you don’t have to- the gesture alone is enough to get Brian whining and begging, “Y/N, please…”

“So good for me, Brian.” You press a kiss to his jaw and ask, “Color?”

“Green, _please_ -”

“And how’s the corset feel?”

Brian groans as he realizes that you’re in no rush to give him what he wants, but he reluctantly replies, “Tight. But it feels so good.”

“And how’s the breathing?”

“Difficult,” Brian admits, with a small huff of laughter despite himself, and he tries one more time, “Please, Y/N, I need-”

“ _We_ need to go do the dishes from breakfast, I think,” you say. Brian whines and you’re happy that he can’t see your amused smile at his, admittedly predictable, reaction. “And then I picked up a new album that I want to listen to and then…” 

You chuckle, and spin Brian around so he’s facing you and, god, he’s already so far under that if you hadn’t just checked in with him you’d stop everything immediately to make sure he was still alright. “Then we’ll see where the day takes us from there, I suppose. Does that sound alright, Bri?”

Brian nods immediately, because no matter how turned on he is, how badly he already wants to come, _this_ is what he’s been waiting for: being laced up so tight that breathing becomes a challenge, so that every inhale has to be carefully considered, so that simple movements become feats of exertion, and then forced to stay like that for _hours_ , until his pleasure becomes a desperation and he’s so far gone that he’d do almost anything for you if you’d just let him finally come. 

You set Brian to work drying the dishes as you wash them, because you don’t trust him to clean them properly with how wound-up he is. Plus, this lets you draw the chore out for as long as possible, far past the point where it’s even believable, because in truth you don’t really care about cleaning up after breakfast. The point of all this is to let Brian adjust to having the corset this tight, before you ramp things up even further, and to stretch out the experience like you know Brian wants. 

So you listen as he finds a rhythm with his breathing, though it’s still noticeably shallow. Every time you brush against his arm or you “accidentally” bump hips his breath hitches and it takes him a few moments to bring it back under control. When you finally turn off the sink you pull him into a hot kiss, and it’s _so_ easy to steal his breath and get him gasping against your mouth with barely any effort on your part. 

“Go put on the record I left by the turntable, and then sit on the couch,” you order. 

Brian nods, eager to move your game forward even though he knows that he’s no closer to coming. You watch, amused, as he leaves the kitchen, so constrained by the corset that it’s reflected in every movement of his body, from his walk to the way he perches, uncomfortable, on the edge of the couch when you join him in the living room a few minutes later. 

You sigh and shake your head, putting on an air of disappointment, and tell him, “Sit with your back against the cushions please, love.”

“But-” 

You give Brian a look to silence whatever complaint he was going to make. He carefully wiggles further back onto the couch, biting his lip although it does nothing to hide his whimpers as the new position makes the corset dig further into him. 

You nod in approval and, without warning, straddle his legs and sit on his lap. His hands automatically go to your waist to help hold you in place, as you tangle one hand in his hair, pulling his head back so you can kiss along his throat, relishing the feeling of his gasping breaths beneath your mouth. 

Even with the band on break you don’t dare leave bruises on his neck, but you risk a bite at the edge of his jaw, where his hair will _almost_ hide it, and you drag the nails of your other hand along his chest above the corset, teasing at his nipples and leaving scratches that have Brian fighting to arch into your touch. But he can’t move his torso with the corset laced so tightly, can’t get enough traction to rock his hips up against you, can’t do _anything_ but sit there, panting and whining and gasping desperately as you do whatever you want to him. 

“Y/N- Y/N, please,” Brian begs, barely able to get the words out at all, which only makes you want to make him try to talk even more. 

“Please what?”

“Touch me.” The words are gasped out, before Brian tries to draw in a deep, heaving breath only to be stopped by the corset. 

“I am touching you,” you tease, thumbing over his nipple and tugging a little harder at his hair. 

Brian moans, high and breathy, and only manages to say, “My cock…”

You laugh, just a little, and tell him, “Oh, baby, I don’t think so. If I touch your cock you’re gonna come, and I have _far_ too many plans for you to let that happen now.”

Brian whimpers and squirms beneath you, unable to stay quiet or stay still when he’s this wound up. He tries to say something else but only manages a few broken syllables before he has to force himself to stop, and take several too-shallow breaths to center himself in order to ask, “Can I touch _you_?”

“I like the sound of that even more, but I think I have an even better idea.” You climb off of Brian, pulling him up off the couch, and quickly strip off your clothes, before sitting back down with your legs spread wide and telling him, “Kneel, Brian, with your hands behind your back. I want to feel your mouth on me and _maybe_ if you do a good enough job, I’ll let you come.”

Brian falls to his knees so quickly that you know it has to hurt, but he doesn’t complain- frankly, you’re not sure he has enough breath to do so even if he wanted to. He obediently puts his hands behind his back and looks up at you, waiting for your nod before leaning down and getting to work. 

Truthfully, it’s not the best job Brian has ever done, but you sort of expected that. You’re being more than a little unfair to him with this challenge. The corset makes it difficult for him to get his mouth on you at all, and he can only manage a few brief licks or a gentle suck before he has to pull back, gasping for breath. 

“Oh, come on, Bri, you can do better than that,” you say, a little patronizing, and you grab his hair again and pull him down, hard, until his mouth is where you need it the most and his face is buried so close to you that his nose is nearly touching your skin. 

And then you hold him there. 

One beat, then two, and his tongue is still flicking against you but you can feel him struggling to breathe, can feel the tiny gasp of air that he manages to suck in that you _know_ isn’t enough. You feel his head jerk in your hands as he instinctively tries to pull back, but you hold him in place for a second longer, before easing him away. 

He gasps, raw and desperate, eyes blown wide with a panicked arousal that still makes you nervous to see, no matter how many times you’ve indulged in his breathplay kink. He gets off on this, you know that, but you still check in with him and ask, “Color, Brian?”

“Green-” he wheezes, and he’s barely finished speaking the word before you’re pulling him back down. 

He works his mouth over you as best he can, all tongue and lips and the barest scrape of teeth in those moments when he fights for oxygen and can’t quite control himself. His mouth and between your thighs are drenched with spit as he sputters and chokes against you. Every time you pull him away so he can gasp in a few shallow and desperate breaths your pleasure ebbs away just enough that you keep pushing Brian further than you usually do, until there are tears in his eyes and his pupils are blown so wide that there’s barely any color left in his irises at all. 

“Green,” he gasps, when you pull him away for the last time, anticipating the question before you can even ask it. He tries to lean back down even though he’s panting so hard that it sounds like it _hurts_ , and you have to physically hold him back from suffocating himself against you again. 

“No, Brian, that’s enough, you did good, you did so good,” you tell him, carding one hand through his hair and gently scratching at his scalp. “Catch your breath, that’s it, that’s my good boy…”

Brian nods, because there’s nothing else he _can_ do- he certainly doesn’t have enough breath to complain. He shifts and ducks his head, and normally you’d let him rest against your leg but he can’t bend like that in the corset. You want to move him into a more comfortable position while he rests, but you’re not sure that there even is one so you settle for kissing the top of his head and murmuring praises as you watch for any sign that he’s about to pass out on you unexpectedly. 

Luckily, that doesn’t happen and, although it takes a few minutes, Brian finally manages to ask, “Did I do a good enough job?”

You remember the promise you made him before having him service you and you smile at him and say, “You did _such_ a good job, baby. In fact, you did so good that I’m going to give you a choice.”

Brian looks up at you with wide eyes and a still-flushed face, and ask, “A choice?”

“Yes, Brian, a choice. I can either return the favor and suck you off now, or....” You push his head back a bit further, putting just a bit more strain on his throat, before you say, “Or we can move to the bedroom to keep playing, and I’ll tighten your corset a little bit more.”

You know what Brian’s answer is going to be even before his broken moan and gasping, “Yes, yes, Y/N, please, tighten it, _please_ -”

You stand up and Brian scrambles to his feet before you can even order him to. You swat his ass and chide, “Behave now. Go to the bedroom, brace yourself against the bedframe and wait for me.”

You take your time, putting away the record that stopped playing _ages_ ago by now, and taking a few minutes to straighten a few things around the living room, just to let Brian’s anticipation build. When you finally walk into the bedroom you’re pleased to see that he’s waiting for you exactly where and how you told him to. 

You press a kiss to the back of his neck as you undo the bow in the laces of his corset, being careful not to let it loosen at all. “Good boy, waiting for me so prettily like this…” you praise and, without any further warning, you give the laces a sharp tug. 

Brian gasps, the whole line of his body tensing as the corset digs into him a little further, his knuckles white where they’re gripping the footboard of the bed. “Y/N… Y/N…” he says on ragged, panting exhales. 

“Hmm, I bet we can still get it tighter than that…” you say, forcing your voice to stay calm and casual even though you’re so turned on just from Brian’s reaction that it’s all you can do to keep your composure. 

Brian lets out a breathy moan as you start at the top of the corset and slowly, methodically, pull in each section of lacing as it crosses his back. Brian’s moans get quieter and are replaced with hitching, shallow inhales and soft, desperate whines as you repeat the process from the bottom of the corset, gathering all the slack in the laces in the middle. 

You wrap the excess lacing around Brian’s waist a few times, because there’s so _much_ of it now, before tying it off in another bow at his back. “Fuck, Brian, the corset is almost _closed_ ,” you say with a low groan, tracing a finger down the laces along his spine. “Another inch or two and both halves would be touching, _god_ …”

“Y/N-” Brian gasps, and he doesn’t even have enough breath to get out _please_. 

“Color?”

“Green,” he manages, but only just. 

You’re straying into dangerous territory here, you know that. Brian is past the point of being able to properly adjust his breathing to compensate for the corset, which may have been your goal but also means that you don’t have a larger window of time to play with if you want both of you to come while he’s still laced up. 

“Get on the bed, Brian, on your back,” you tell him, and Brian scrambles to obey. He collapses back against the mattress, struggling to move in the corset, and you help push him into a better position while saying, “You’ve been so good, Brian, so fucking good. Gonna ride you now, gonna fuck you while you’re in that corset and finally let you come…”

Brian’s cock is big, almost too big for you to handle without some prep, which today you rush maybe a little bit more than you should. You peel Brian’s pants off, finally freeing his aching cock, but you pass him the condom to put on himself. You’re sure that if you tried to do it, he’d come immediately. 

As it stands, you’re still expecting him to come the moment you grab his cock to position it at your entrance and start slowly sinking down, but even though Brian’s head is thrown back and he’s gasping and shaking and _crying_ underneath you, he holds himself together as you start to ride him. 

There’s nothing slow about it. There _can’t_ be anything slow about it, not when Brian is hanging on by the skin of his teeth and you aren’t far behind him. You brace one hand against the front of his corset as you ride him hard and fast, and bring the other down to work yourself towards your own orgasm. 

“Close, Bri, I’m close,” you pant and Brian doesn’t answer because he _can’t_ answer. His face is bright red and every breath is too small and too shallow, hitching and desperate and just this side of panicked, the sweet spot that you try _so hard_ to get Brian to when you do this but it’s never been like _this_ , never been dragged out for this long, never been so _good_ like it is now-

“Gonna-” Brian gasps, the only warning he’s capable of giving you, but that’s enough for you to move your hand from his chest up to his neck, pushing up sharply under his jaw to cut off his breathing at the source as well and he comes immediately, silently, mouth wide as he struggles to draw in a breath that you won’t let him have. 

You let go of his neck before he can pass out and all it takes is another few rocks on his softening cock before you follow him over the edge, crying out as you grind against him and work yourself through your orgasm, sacrificing the last moments of your own pleasure in favor of climbing off Brian to make sure that he’s alright.

Brian still looks dazed and overwhelmed, his face wet with tears, and he’s still fighting to take in proper breaths. Even though your limbs feel like jelly and you’re shaking a little from the intensity of your own orgasm you help leverage Brian upright, enough to wriggle behind him and undo first the bow and then the lacing running down his spine. 

As the corset loosens Brian draws in loud, heaving breaths, each deeper than the last. He coughs and gasps and you murmur an endless stream of praise and reassurances as you quickly loosen the corset enough that it’s safe to undo the latches at the busk, and pull it away completely. 

Taking off the condom and tossing it in the direction of the garbage is almost an afterthought, but once that’s done as well you pull Brian into your arms and breathe slowly, deeply, telling him, “That’s it, you’re alright, you can breathe, just listen to me, match your breathing to mine, that’s it, you did good, you did so good baby, just breathe now…”

Every breath Brian draws in sounds like it _hurts_ and he can’t seem to stop shaking, even after his breathing calms down and his heart stops racing quite so much. You hope that you didn’t take things too far at the end there and you ask, a little nervous, “How are you feeling?”

Brian mumbles something slurred and unintelligible, and cuddles closer to you. It’s not exactly an answer, and you ask instead, “Color?”

“‘een,” Brian manages, because he can always manage at least _that_ , and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Are words too much for you now?” you ask, and you feel his answering nod against your body. It’s not the first time that Brian has gone nearly non-vocal after a scene, but it doesn’t happen often and you know it’s going to take some time for him to come back up. 

You’re prepared for this, though. You lean over the side of the bed, careful not to jostle Brian too much or lose contact with him, and grab the small bottle of juice that you set on the nightstand before. He’ll need proper food and drink sooner rather than later, but for now you coax him into drinking the juice a few sips at a time as you gently wipe the tear tracks off his face.

The juice seems to help his throat as well, because his breathing evens out a bit more and doesn’t sound quite so harsh as you gently shift so the two of you are lying back down on the bed. You pull the covers over you both and stay cuddled close to Brian. 

“Get some rest,” you say quietly. “That one took a lot out of you.”

You intend to stay awake, in case something happens and Brian needs you, but you’re worn out a little as well and you end up dozing despite your intentions. You wake up with a start when you feel Brian move away from you, and you bolt upright immediately. “What’s going on, are you alright?” you ask, a little panicked. 

“Everything’s fine, Y/N, I’m just going to the bathroom,” Brian assures you. His voice is a little rough, and you can’t tell if it’s from sleep or the scene, but his eyes are clear and the smile he gives you is genuine. He doesn’t look distressed, and frankly he seems more composed than he has after some scenes you’ve done in the past, which helps calm you down. 

“Sorry,” you say with a small, nervous laugh. “You just went under _hard_ , and I was worried.”

“I know, but I’m alright now,” Brian says. He leans down to give you a quick kiss, and you watch as he leaves the room. He’s unsteady on his feet, but that’s to be expected, and you can’t see any bruising on his torso. All things considered, he’s doing a lot better than you were expecting. 

That makes a little more sense when you glance at the clock, and see that several hours have passed since you and Brian fell asleep. You knew that this would take up most of the day, so you’re not entirely surprised to see that it’s nearing dinner, but that does mean that you need to actually get up and you’re not looking forward to that. 

You stand up with a small groan and stretch out, feeling your joints pop, and you busy yourself with hanging the corset back up, getting dressed, and tidying the room a bit. When Brian returns you have pajamas pulled out for him already, and he gives you a kiss on the cheek in thanks before getting dressed.

“How are you feeling?” you ask. “If you can talk about it, that is.”

Brian shrugs. “A little low, a little sore, but not too bad. I don’t, ah-” He scrubs a hand over his face, struggling to find the right words. You give him a moment to collect himself and he finally says, “Can we pick it apart tomorrow?”

You know he means that he’s not up for a detailed discussion of everything that was good and bad about the scene, but you still want to check in a little more than that. “Can I ask one question?” Brian makes a small face, but nods. “Was it good?”

That startles a laugh out of him. “Y/N- _Yes_ , god, it was good. It was perfect, it was everything I wanted, it was-” He huffs and shakes his head. “Yes. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Good. I’m glad,” you say, and you mean it, whole-heartedly.

“Can I ask _you_ one quesiton now?” Brian asks. You nod and he grins, bright and happy, and asks, “Can we do that again?”

You laugh, and wrap your arms around Brian. He sighs and relaxes against you, and you turn your head to gently kiss his cheek. “Of course we can, you silly,” you tell him. “We spent enough money on that thing, we might as well make good use of it.”

“Good,” Brian murmurs. “Because I really did like that. A lot.”

You bite back a few teasing comments you could make, because by Brian’s own admission he’s still dealing with a bit of subdrop, and that needs to be your focus now. You can joke around and talk more in-depth about it all later, but you have other plans for the rest of the evening and you ask, “Wanna order takeout and cuddle on the couch?”

“Yes please.”

He doesn’t seem to want to let go of you but he eventually pulls away with a sigh. You take his hand, lacing your fingers in with his, and offer him an easy smile. Your usual post-scene routines have all gone out the window with this one, but you still know what he needs in moments like this. Offering him a gentle touch is the simplest thing in the world for you and as easy as… 

Well. 

As easy as breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> First, a disclaimer: I know about corsets, and I know about breathplay, but I don’t have hands-on experience using corsets in kink. The smut parts of this fic have some assumptions made about how a scene would play out, but the rest of the information in the fic is fairly accurate at least with regards to my own corsetry experiences. And as with all forms of breathplay, please make sure that you know what you’re doing before trying anything out!
> 
> As for the corset details… Inflation calculators tell me that £30 in 1979 is equal to about £150 today (or $200 USD), and £50 in 1979 is roughly £250/$300 today. Average prices for bespoke corsets range from $200-500 USD today, so all things considered Brian’s is fairly middle-of-the-road.
> 
> All corset information is based on what’s common today, because I didn’t feel like researching corsets in the 70s/80s. I know they weren’t very popular back then, outside of niche communities, but I’m assuming it still would have been possible to find a corsetmaker. The shop in this fic is entirely made-up. Lottie’s passing comment about male celebrities wearing corsets is based on an apocryphal story of William Shatner wearing one while filming Star Trek.
> 
> Breaking in the corset (or “seasoning” it, as it’s usually called) is a very important part of buying a new corset. Seasoning it allows the corset to form to your body and helps prevent damage to the corset (or to yourself!). Different vendors will have different recommendations for how to approach this. The 2-2-2 method described here was chosen mostly because it’s the only one I felt was feasible the timeframe of events.
> 
> Finally, self-lacing is very much possible with both modern and historical corsets, despite what Hollywood would have you believe. Brian’s corset is laced with the “bunny ears” method, which laces towards the middle rather than the top or bottom. [This video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDBP_CWymME) does a good job of showing how this works.


End file.
